Tortolì

As we had planned the previous evening, we were to have a rest from the sun and take a drive out. It was probably just as well because we had spots of rain just before we got out of bed. It was an overcast day, so our little road trip was guilt free that we weren’t missing out on the sun.

After breakfast and a shower we hit the road. Our first stop was Orgosolo, which was just over an hour away. Our route took us up and over a mountain where we picked up a dual carriageway through the centre of the island. If you asked Jackie what the scenery had been like she wouldn’t have had a clue - her head was either in her iPad, counting her money, polishing the dashboard, getting sweets out of the glovebox or checking her hair and makeup.

As we approached Orgosol, pieces of art started to appear at the roadside with sculptures made from junk or painted rocks. My SatNav took us through some horribly narrow streets before we arrived in the area we were looking for. We parked up and took a stroll around the town’s famed satirical caricatures and political murals. There were literally hundreds (some 200) of murals on every wall and building, many by notable artists. We didn’t particularly what they were saying or referring to, but it they were very artistic. I took numerous photos along with the other sightseers as we wandered up and down the main street and its side streets and alleyways.

Orgosolo is described in my Lonely Planet book as being Sardinia’s most notorious town, its name long a byword for the banditry and violence that blighted this part of the island for so long. Once the day-trippers have gone, the villagers reclaim their streets - the old boys to sit staring at anyone they don’t recognise and the lads with crewcuts to race up and down in their mud-splattered cars. I can totally believe this. There was a real sense of resentment by the locals as they sat in groups outside the bars and cafes glaring at us tourists. They seemed to take great pleasure in stopping their cars in the street to block the road hence preventing decent photos of the murals.

Having seen as many as we could find, we stopped in a little locals bar for a quick cold beer. Suitably refreshed, we returned to the car and headed for another hour east to Cala Gonone. It was a pleasant drive through a fairly agricultural region. We crossed a lake, Lago Del Cedrino, on a high bridge called Sul Viadotto, then followed the SP38 with glorious mountain and lake views to the mountain town of Dorgali, heaving with motorcyclists.

We continued through a mountain tunnel then down the steep road with a series of hairpin bends to the quaint fishing harbour town of Cala Gonone. We drove down to the harbour which had some appealing looking restaurants that another day would have been worthy of a stop. The harbour is best known as the place to rent a boat or take a boat trip along the coast to a number of apparently beautiful coves only accessible from the water.

We continued 3km south to Cala Fuili, the only such cove that was accessible by car and a short walk. Despite it being thick cloud above, the road to the beach was still busy with parked cars of beach goers. We drove to the end, where I jumped out on the roundabout and took a photo of the segment of the cove that was visible.

We didn’t hang about, so we drove back up the hairpin bend road, only just avoiding being hit by a coach and several cars racing around the bends in the middle of the road. Italian drivers are aggressive impatient idiots to put it politely. Rest assured that wasn’t the language I shouted at them.

After driving back through the mountain tunnel, we headed south on the SS125, reputed to be an extremely scenic 40 odd mile stretch of road. We weren’t disappointed, views of attractive mountains, valleys and the sea all the way. The windy road was an obvious draw for the legions of motorcyclists hacking past us in both directions. We witnessed some crazy overtakes on blind bends.

Our final stop on my itinerary was to Il Golgo, an abyss that was an apparent remarkable feat of nature. We didn’t find it. Instead we drove to Pedra Longo, a huge rock that rose up out of the sea. We explored and took a couple of photos. Upon returning to the car, we got the cricket on the iPad and drove back to camp stopping for wine and water on the way.

Back in camp, I watched the remainder of the cricket in which England comprehensively thrashed USA, whilst Jackie made dinner. Dinner was entitled ‘The Food Poisoning Lottery’. It was fried yellow chicken, that may or may not have been two days out of date, with mozzarella, mushroom, onion and pesto pasta and salad. Without sounding boring, it was again delicious and a great end to a great day.

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